


His Blushing Bride

by loOkMA_iTyPeLiKeDiS



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: (no farmer!lance), F/M, Future Fic, Introspection, Pining Lance (Voltron), Post-Canon, Smitten Lance (Voltron), Soft Lance (Voltron), Wedding, word vomit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-06
Updated: 2019-12-06
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:42:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21689296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loOkMA_iTyPeLiKeDiS/pseuds/loOkMA_iTyPeLiKeDiS
Summary: She was stunning. A vision of beauty.And Lance couldn’t take his eyes off of her.
Relationships: Lance/Pidge | Katie Holt
Comments: 20
Kudos: 33





	His Blushing Bride

**Author's Note:**

> tis the season to write stuff like this #^^#

It was a day they’d all been restless over.

A day that had heightened Pidge’s excited spazzing the closer it had loomed. A day that had elevated Lance’s nerves, made his palms sweaty each time he thought about it.

A day Lance swore he didn’t think would ever come.

But here he was, standing by the altar in the beautifully decorated chapel in white with teal roses and streamers adorning every surface, his heart in his throat as Canon in D was played by the hired orchestra. Despite Chip malfunctioning and spewing rose petals all over the congregation in the pews like projectiles out of his mouth and Kosmo almost eating the rings, Lance hardly noticed the mishaps at all.

No.

He was fixated on the impending nuptials, but above that, the beautiful, blushing bride who’d entered the chapel on her father’s arm. It was like magic was suspended in the air, everyone mesmerised as they watched her slowly make her way down the aisle.

And she stole his breath.

Pidge was always beautiful to him, but Lance couldn’t deny how gorgeous she looked with her pin curl up-do, the diamonds on her ears and around her neck, the soft red of her bashfully smiling lips and the warm, smoky tones of her eye makeup. Her dress was stunning, the cinched waist catering to her figure perfectly, the rhinestones of her bodice glistening, and the billowing skirt of the chiffon gown looking like it was shimmering and mingling with the floral lace of her long veil behind her with each of her dainty steps.

He hadn’t seen her since last night when she’d started freaking out during the rehearsal dinner and by the end of the night firmly decided no one was allowed to see her the day of except for her mother. And when they’d all tried to argue the point that at least her bridesmaids should help her out with preparations, she’d started swinging. And no one wanted a black eye in the pictures, so Pidge had gotten her way.

In the end, it didn’t matter, he supposed.

“Look at her. She’s all grown up…” Hunk muttered quietly behind Lance’s shoulder, his voice nasally as he sobbed like a baby and kept blowing his nose in his handkerchief. “Look at our Pidgey.”

Hunk had been blubbering incessantly since they’d taken their places—even worse since she’d walked in—and Keith was trying to hide the fact that he had red, watery eyes, and Shiro behind Keith was sniffling loudly and looking like some proud father. Lance’s own eyes were pricking with tears, overcome with the emotion of watching Pidge’s slow approach, like an angel who’d blessed him with her presence.

She was stunning. A vision of beauty of which he could only dream up.

And Lance couldn’t take his eyes off of her.

Pidge’s nervous excitement was easily recognisable when they arrived at the front of the steps. He could tell in the way she was gripping her bouquet like a lifeline, in the way her eyes flitted around at the wedding party at the front and the people in the pews, in the way her bare shoulders were just a bit tensed up. The way she almost looked green in the face. Lance felt sick to his stomach too, to be honest, and wondered if he’d be able to keep his own jumbled thoughts clear enough to get through the ceremony without puking all over his suit and nice shoes.

(Or _worse_ —and potentially fatally—on Pidge’s dress).

Sam pulling over her veil signified the end of Lance’s withdrawn musings, the end of the orchestral piece, and when she slowly ascended the steps, Lance realised this was it.

No more imagining. No more wondering. No more desperate hoping.

The union was about to commence.

Pidge’s eyes met Lance’s and she beamed, goofily, excitedly, her cheeks rosy, and his heart thundered painfully at the soft lilt in her sparkling amber gaze. And though Lance couldn’t help but smile back in response to her ample cheer—wanted to smile proudly—he couldn’t muster it up in full.

He couldn’t do anything but watch helplessly as Pidge handed him her bouquet and turned her back to him, taking her place in front of the altar facing her soon-to-be teal alien husband, his antenna high with his own excitement and a smile of absolute adoration trained on his blushing bride.

And Lance stood there, the maid of honour for his best friend’s wedding, his heart breaking all over again, just like the day she’d told him she was engaged. He was about to lose who was probably the love of his life to another man forever.

Pidge’s quiet, giddy giggles with her groom made Lance’s smile drop, and when the officiant proceeded the ceremony, he tuned it out, willing his heart to cease its unending throbbing in his chest, to stop twisting with each word of affirmation that Pidge was soon to be bound in marriage, yet again, a reminder to Lance that he seemed to always be unlucky in love.

Never enough.

Always too late.

Lance was happy that she’d found her happiness with someone; he really was. And he’d made sure to show her unwavering encouragement through the whole process, cured her of her cold feet and fright after the rehearsal dinner, and above all that, set aside any of his misgivings so staunchly so that no one, not even Hunk, could be able to figure out how much this wedding was hurting him. He’d determined to be unfailingly supportive of Pidge.

But there would always be those lingering thoughts in his mind that he’d lost her, and there was not one thing in the world that could possibly numb the pain of watching the woman he’d fallen so deeply for—the woman he’d always imagined he’d one day find in front of that altar _with_ him—marry someone else.

Lance had spent some months envisioning himself in the spot of the groom, and there was some part of his mind that toyed with the idea of making a scene, of begging her to not marry him, of saying they were all wrong for each other and that she should be with Lance, but that would be selfish, even for him. He couldn’t do that to her husband, a fellow Defender of his. And he couldn’t do that to Pidge and ruin her big day.

It’d taken Lance two years to realise he’d fallen for Pidge, the closer they grew in their friendship after the war. Another year before he could admit to himself that the feelings weren’t going away anytime soon. And then yet another year of hiding his feelings for her while they threatened to boil over until he’d decided maybe holding back wasn’t helping his cause.

All those years spent biding his time, and for what?

A front row seat to Pidge falling in love with another man.

And now a front row seat— _literally_ —to her marrying him.

_“I can’t ruin the friendship.”_

_“I need to stay professional.”_

_“I’ve known her for too long.”_

He’d spouted the excuses through years in his mind like mantras, constantly reminding himself to stay detached and reel himself in when he found himself staring at her with far too much longing. Or when Pidge would hug him tight upon successful returns from his missions and he’d bury his nose in her hair, heart dancing in his chest, a desire to kiss her and sweep her off her feet raging through his veins. Or when he put dents and scratches in her rockets and grew lost in her blazing eyes and how beautiful she always was while furiously berating him for his recklessness.

But more than that, to stop himself from constantly wishing that that could be his life. That he could come home to Pidge after his missions, could wrap his arms around her and hold her all night and relish in the comfort and stability that only she seemed to be able to give him.

It was different. She wasn’t just some fly by night romance or quick crush. They had immense trust in each other and the friendship spanning ten years of close camaraderie and unwavering support and devotion had warped in his heart. He knew what they could have. That building on their foundation would lead to one of the most rewarding relationships in his life he could have with her. One of the most rewarding relationships he’d once wished she could want with him.

But pining after the tech developer of his fleet from afar had bred absolutely nothing but regrets and that persistent swooping of his stomach like he wanted to retch.

And when the officiant pronounced them husband and wife, and they shared a slow, loving kiss, Lance couldn’t swallow around the knot in his throat, clapping along with the rest of the cheering congregation, defeated and angry at himself. The fact that he could miss his chance with her had never even crossed his mind, but he knew the only one to blame was himself.

She’d never known.

How could she, when he’d made it his mission to keep his feelings under wraps to protect their friendship?

But in the end, it wasn’t worth it.

It wasn’t worth seeing Pidge's radiant smile at her husband like he’d hung the stars in the sky. It wasn’t worth watching someone Lance cared for so deeply run down the aisle hand-in-hand with someone else. It wasn’t worth putting necessary space between them now, no longer talking until the wee hours of the morning and ceasing his casual touches and lingering hugs. And it especially wasn’t worth the knowledge that he’d have to correspond with her every day for the rest of his life, seeing the gold band on her finger as she tinkered with his tools, knowing she was taken for good, while he fell deeper and deeper in this pit of love for someone who probably had never even noticed him.

Lance sighed and filed out with the rest of the wedding party, keeping his gaze staunchly on the ground and not daring to look up, lest he see the two newlyweds share another kiss. He declined Hunk’s offer to drive all of them bridesmaids over to the location of the after party, in favour of going on his own so he could maybe cry in his car or something. He wouldn’t stay long for the after party either, and thankfully he had the excuse of needing to prepare for his fleet’s next mission in a couple days’ time. No one would bat an eye over a captain needing to focus on work, and it would prevent him from having to come up with some unreasonable excuse to let Pidge know why he was leaving after the cake cutting.

He felt bad. The maid of honour leaving the wedding early was probably some sort of faux pas. But Lance knew himself. And he knew damn well he wouldn’t be able to handle much more if he had to watch them cuddled up and happy as they shared their first dance, her hand in his, head pressed against his heart as they spun slow circles. And he would rather wallow in his own self-pity in the quiet of his apartment than bring down the mood of Pidge’s happy nuptials. Lance wasn't one to do much when he was down—he tended to go running or play video games—but maybe when he got back he'd switch it up and go on a long vacation. Or grow a beard. Or get a tattoo or something. Anything to keep him away from the constant reminder of his loss.

When he found the courage to congratulate her, he wanted to do so with a genuine smile, and it would come with time.

But right now, he had to get away from it all.

Lance fake smiled for every picture, greeted every guest politely that engaged him in conversation and answered their questions like a good little host, courteously accepted Pidge’s soft kiss on his cheek in thanks when he gave her back her bouquet, and waved with everyone else as the couple piled into the carriage to be paraded around the city. When people began to leave to head to the party, he dragged his feet to his car down the street, shoulders slumped, hands stuffed in his pockets, his gloom far overshadowing the celebratory cheering and shouts of all the people.

Lance never thought he’d see the day when Katie Holt became the one that got away, but here he was, his heart wrenched so hard in his chest he couldn’t breathe right. He’d always hoped one day, she’d be his and he’d be hers, but he supposed it would remain a fleeting dream now.

But he’d get over her, one day.

He had to.

**Author's Note:**

> i’m a troll :P
> 
> the prequel sequel to [The Morning After](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21550591)


End file.
